All I Want
by Skylar Jordan
Summary: *Set almost 5 years after Afterbirth* Five years ago, Violet told Tate to go away. Now, all she wants is for him to come back. But will she allow herself to forgive him after all he has done?
1. Chapter 1

_I'm saying go away._

It had been almost five years.

_Go away, Tate._

1788 days since Violet told Tate to go away.

_Go away, Tate!_

Not that she was counting.

_Go away!_

There was always a part of Violet that still loved him—a part that would never let her stop loving him. But some days, she could push that part to the very back corner of her mind. Doing that made it easier to forget all that he had done—the good as well as the bad. When she remembered the good, the only thing she wanted to was call his name and tell him that she forgives him, but she couldn't. Tate still had to pay. Forgetting made being trapped in this house bearable.

Today was not one of those days. Violet stood in front of the bathroom mirror, razor blade in hand. She watched the line of red form as the blade bit into her wrist. The pain was like an old friend she hadn't seen in a long time, where you don't even realize how much you missed them until you see them again. She had missed the comforting feeling of the cold edge against her wrist and the starkness of the blood against her skin.

It seemed like forever ago that Tate had made her promise to never cut herself, and she had kept that promise. Until now.

As the blood welled up and dripped onto the sink, déjà vu came over Violet. It was here, in this bathroom, that Violet had first met Tate. She closed her eyes, and before she could stop them, the memories she had tried so hard to push away were dredged up and played out for her like a movie. She saw herself sitting on her bed with Tate, comparing scars, kissing him for the first time, Tate giving her a black rose, going to the beach for their first date, when they slept together for the first time, Tate showing Violet her corpse, Tate telling her he loves her, her telling Tate to go away. So many memories came flooding back. So many firsts.

She tried to hold back the tears, but like the memories, she couldn't stop them. They slid down her cheeks and she stared at the puddle of blood that had accumulated in the sink. _I still love him_.


	2. Chapter 2

"You promised."

Violet raised her eyes to look in the mirror, and he was there, standing in the doorway. Just like the first time. She dropped the razor blade in the sink.

"You promised me that you would never cut yourself again."

"It's not like it does anything. I'm already dead, so why does it matter." She could barely speak. It took everything she had not to run over to Tate, hug him, and tell him she loves him.

"It doesn't matter, Violet." He started to take a step towards her, but then he stopped. "I don't like seeing you hurt yourself."

"Then leave." She turned away from the mirror so he couldn't see the new tears falling. She didn't know how much longer she could stay away from him.

"I did, Violet! I left when you told me to because I love you! And it kills me every day knowing that you're here, but I can't touch you or talk to you. I stay away because that's what you want, but I'm not going to let you hurt yourself. Because I promised you I would never let anything hurt you." His voice broke at the end and she knew he was crying too. Violet turned around to face him.

"Tate . . . You hurt me." It broke her heart—broke it even more—to see him crying.

"Violet, I'm sorry!"

"Go away, Tate," she whispered and he disappeared. Now that he was gone, she finally let herself break down. She slumped down against the wall and leaned her head back. _Why did you do that!_ Her heart screamed. Sobs wracked her body and she reached a hand up to the sink, fumbling to get a grip on the razorblade. When she did, she sliced it across her wrists repeatedly. The old wound had already healed, leaving a scar that would soon fade. Blood was flowing freely onto her clothes and down to the floor.

"If you're trying to kill yourself you cut vertically," he had said what seemed like a lifetime ago. So she did, not that it would matter. She couldn't kill herself—she was already dead. But that didn't stop her from slashing the blade along the underside of her forearm on first her left arm, then her right.

That's how Vivien found Violet. Gashes in her arms, sitting in a puddle of her own blood, crying her eyes out.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"Tired of what?" Tate asked Hayden. He was sitting on the basement floor, rolling the ball to Beau, and Hayden was standing on the stairs.

"Tired of her rejecting you. Tired of moping around. You do have needs don't you? You are a guy after all." She walked over to him and ran her hand down his arm. "I can help you with those needs."

"Get off of me, Hayden." He shook her hand off his shoulder. "I told you I would wait forever if I had to; I wasn't lying. I will wait as long as it takes."


	3. Chapter 3

"Violet?" Vivien poked her head into Violet's room.

"Yeah Mom?" Violet was laying on her bed, scrolling through the music on her iPod.

"Just checking in to see if you wanted to do anything, like help us decorate for Halloween." Ever since Vivien found Violet in the bathroom, she had been dropping by at random times. 'Just checking in,' she always said. But Violet knew she was just making sure her daughter didn't try to kill herself over and over and over again.

Choosing a song, she set her iPod down and looked at Vivien. "I might come down later. I just want to hang out for a bit."

"All right." Vivien started to leave, but she paused and turned back to her daughter's room. "Violet, are you sure you're okay?"

"Mom, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to kill myself—I'm already dead, remember?"

"Okay. We'll be downstairs setting up."

Once Vivien left, Violet picked up the razor blade that she had quickly hidden under her comforter when she heard her mom coming. It glinted in the light as she held between her fingers and lightly ran the sharp edge along her wrists. Not deep enough to draw blood; she just traced it over her old scars from when she was alive.

The scene in the bathroom had shaken her. After—for the most part—successfully bottling up all of her memories of Tate, they had come flooding back all at once, coming over her like a tidal wave. And then, he showed up. It had been too much.

It made her heart swell to know that he had remembered the promise he made her make so many years ago, but it also made her even more conflicted. She loved him—she couldn't deny that any longer. He needed to pay for all he did, but was five years long enough?

"I miss him," she admitted out loud, then immediately wished she hadn't. It was almost like saying it aloud made her longing for Tate more real, if that was even possible. But God, did she miss him. Maybe it was time to forgive him. . .

Violet shook her head. _I can't think about this right now. _She took her ear buds out and set her iPod down on her bed. This Halloween she would have to see if Vivien would buy her a newer one; after all, it was only a week away. One week until she could finally get out of this goddamn house, even if it were only for a day.

She headed downstairs to find Chad, Vivien, and Moira carving pumpkins and making decorations. Chad looked up and said, "Good, you can give me a hand with the bats. Your mother is terrible at them, even after three years of practice."

In the past years, some of the ghosts of Murder House had reconciled, which was why Chad was in the kitchen with them (even though he had plotted to raise the twins as his and Patrick's). It made things easier for Violet; she always had people she could talk to. For a while it was alright, but there was only one person she really wanted to talk to. The one person who truly understood her: Tate.

Violet walked over to the counter and picked up a sheet of black paper, folding it into a 3-D bat. She laughed at something Chad said and put a smile on for Vivien, but all Violet really wanted to do was go back upstairs and lose herself in her music.

Halloween couldn't come soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Violet was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding the black rose she had found lying on her pillow. She scraped her nail along one of the petals and some of the black chipped away to reveal red. As she had suspected, the rose was painted black. She set the flower down beside her and stood up. There was only one person who would give her a black rose

Downstairs, Ben and Vivien were in the kitchen talking about their Halloween plans. Violet slipped past them and headed for the basement.

Taking two steps at a time, she called out, "Tate? I know you're down here." She looked around the basement and saw not Tate, but Hayden.

"Hello Violet," Hayden said, with a not-so-nice smile on her face.

"What are you still doing here. Shouldn't you be off seducing other guys and ruining marriages?"

"Hm, good idea. It is my only day free of this place until next year; might as well make the most of it." Hayden winked and disappeared.

Violet sighed and called Tate's name again. Getting no reply, she walked back up the stairs to find Vivien and Ben waiting for her.

"What do you plan on doing today?" Vivien asked her.

"The usual," Violet lied. The usual was going to music stores and listening to new music, but today she was going to something else. She tried to walk by her parents; she needed to find Tate. But Ben stopped her.

"You're mom and I were thinking that maybe we could go out together like a normal family," Ben said. Violet let out a laugh.

"A _normal_ family? That's bullshit. I already spend every day with you, I don't need to spend my one free day with you too pretending to be a _normal_ family." This time, Ben let Violet go when she brushed past him.

Tate hadn't been in the attic when Violet checked. Sitting on her bedroom floor and twirling the rose in her hand, she tried to think of where he could be. Since it was the ghosts' only day to walk outside of the house's boundaries, he probably wasn't here. _He might come if I cut myself_, she thought.

She stood in front of the sink, digging the razor into her wrists. With every cut she looked up in the mirror to see if he would be in the reflection. When he wasn't, she would turn to see if he was there.

But he wasn't.

Even as the cuts started to heal, she continued making new ones until her arms were a bloody mess and the bottom of the sink was filled with blood. He hadn't come to stop her.

Maybe he was done—finished with her. Instead of her ignoring him, it was the other way around. Maybe the time in the bathroom was the last straw for him; the sign that he needed to move on.

Violet leaned her elbows on the edge of the sink and stared at the small puddle of crimson. Most of the blood had drained down the sink, but a red stain remained in the bottom.

She didn't want to believe that he would give up on her, but maybe he had.

_But he left the rose_.

Violet jerked her head up and rushed for the door. She knew where he was.

It was chilly on the beach, but the cold didn't bother her. Violet saw him sitting on the sand, watching the waves. It was getting dark; she had spent most of the day thinking of where he could be when the clue was right in front of her: the rose. Tate had given her a rose before they went on their first date at the beach. The same beach they were at now.

If Tate was aware of her presence, he didn't show it. Violet walked slowly towards him, pausing between every step like she was approaching a wild animal. When she was about a foot away, she stopped. He still didn't move.

She sat down beside him. At first they didn't speak, didn't even look at each other. Just watched the waves. Then finally, he turned his head and said with a sad smile on his face, "I didn't think you were going to come."

Violet looked into his eyes and saw hope and sadness warring against each other, like he didn't know if he could allow himself to believe she might forgive him. There was also a war going on in Violet's mind. Head versus heart. It was the same song and dance: her brain yelling at her to go far away from Tate and forget about him while her heart was demanding that she forgive him. Normally her head won, but she wasn't sure about this battle.

Being so close to him, seeing every feature of his face that she had missed studying, brought out a longing. A longing that she had suppressed so well until he showed up in the bathroom, which was what caused this. If he hadn't shown up, she would be fine with pushing the feelings into the back corners of her mind.

Five years is long enough, her heart told her.

Seeing that she wasn't replying, Tate started to turn his head back towards the water. But before he could, she stopped him by placing a hand on his cheek

_Yes, yes it is long enough_, she thought. Even though her mind was screaming bloody murder at her, Violet did what she had wanted to do for the past five years.

She kissed him.


End file.
